A/N: Thanks to who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. I hope you're enjoying the endgame, now that we're in the final stretch! And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.
Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "Betrayed" by kateydidnt. Harry is framed for murder and sent to Azkaban. Everyone turns their backs on him, but after ten years they learn that he had been innocent the whole time. What happens after Harry is released? This is probably the best "Harry goes to Azkaban" fic I've read. Granted, most of them aren't great, but this one is good (provided you're in the mood for an angsty story).
Final Countdown: 10...9...8...7...6...5!
Chapter 46 - Am I Evil?
Saturday, April 15, 1996, Afternoon.
"We've got your latest shipment," one of the twins announced, sitting down across from the girls at the table in the common room.
"It was a lot harder than before, though," the second twin said as he joined his brother.
"What happened?" Jasmine asked as she took the box containing the April issue of the Quibbler and put it under her chair.
"We'd rather not reveal exactly how we do it," the second twin replied.
"But Umbridge has been watching us much more closely," the first added.
"Almost as if she knows what you're up to?" Hermione asked.
Both twins nodded and said in unison, "The traitor."
"We don't know for sure there is a traitor in Gryffindor," Hermione pointed out, "but your experiences are another bit of evidence in favor of that."
"Do you two want to stop helping us with this?" Jasmine asked. "We don't want you to take any unnecessary risks."
"What do you take us for?" the first twin asked, sounding a bit offended.
"We never back away from a challenge — especially when it involves sticking it to uptight authority figures," the second continued.
"Besides..." the first added.
"...We have a reputation to uphold," they said together as they got up and left.
"Luna usually gets a couple of extra copies, doesn't she?" Jasmine asked.
"Sure, why?"
"We should make sure that Katie and Cedric get them," Jasmine answered. Cedric Diggory and Katie Bell had only returned to Hogwarts that morning after missing most of the year, and their friends all over the castle had been organizing to help them pass their upcoming exams.
"Good idea," Hermione said. "In fact, I'll have Ginny ask Luna if she still has extras of any of the previous issues from this term and last term."
Sunday, April 16, 1996, Morning.
"What is it, Mother?" Sirius asked with a yawn as he sat down in front of her in the warded portrait room. "It must be pretty important for you to call me up here so early on a Sunday. Did we get news about Voldemort?" He looked around and noted that all the rest of the frames were empty.
"No, nothing like that," Walburga said, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. She seemed to steel herself as she said, "I've got something I need to confess to you."
"Oh?" Sirius asked, perking up a bit as he set down his tea. "You've seemed rather distracted for a while now, so I've wondered if there was something wrong."
"You could have ordered me to tell you," she pointed out.
Sirius shrugged. "I figured that if it was important enough, you'd let me know."
Walburga arched one eyebrow. "There was a time when you wouldn't have trusted me nearly so much."
"True," Sirius agreed. "And in some ways, I still don't entirely trust you; but in other ways you have earned my trust."
Walburga sagged a bit before saying, "That's what I thought, which is part of what makes this so hard to say."
Sirius' voice grew sharp. "You haven't been informing the other side, have you?"
"No, no!" Walburga said quickly. "Nothing even remotely like that! To the best of my recollection, I have not lied to you since you arrived in this house last year. When I told you that I'd help you and Jasmine Dorea, I meant it."
"OK, then," Sirius responded, visibly relaxing. "If you're truly helping us against Voldemort and aren't secretly working for him in any way, willingly or unwillingly, then I don't think there's much that you can say which would cause me to change my mind about you."
"Don't be so sure about that," Walburga muttered under her breath. Squaring her shoulders, she went on, "Before I start, I'd like a promise from you. I'd like you to promise to stay and hear me out. No shouting over me, no storming out after I've only said a couple of sentences. I expect you to be upset, but I'd like you to at least hear all of what I have to say."
Sirius' eyes narrowed. "Alright — I guess owe you at least that much."
"I'm sure you've wondered why I was able to tell you so much about horcruxes," she began. "Why I was able to tell you so much about what that book says that you never needed to consult it yourself."
Sirius groaned and put his head in his hands. "I worried about this more than once. You made one of those foul things, didn't you?" He looked back up at her fidgeting image. "Is it still out there? Are you coming back somehow? Tell me where it is so I can destroy it, and we'll forget this ever happened."
"That's generous of you, Sirius, but I'm afraid that matters are a bit more complicated than that."
"Did you make more than one like that wanker Voldemort?" Sirius demanded, his voice starting to rise.
"Sirius, please," Walburga said, waiting for him to get control of himself before she would continue. "I didn't do anything so stupid as to make more than one horcrux, but yes, I did make one. Something went wrong, though. I had thought that I had made a mistake, but do you remember our discussion about how the Dark Lord suffered greatly through the connection to Jasmine Dorea, and how that might have been a form of punishment?"
"Yeah," Sirius said slowly. "We discussed the possibility that those things are so vile, so contrary to life and nature, that Magic may have gotten involved to punish the person who made them."
"Exactly," Walburga continued, "and that caused me to think that the problem I had may have been a result of that rather than any mistake I made. In fact, that conclusion strikes me as far, far more likely now. It's a reason for us to have a great deal more respect for Magic than I ever imagined, despite what that lesson has cost me."
"I'd be surprised if you had made a mistake in something like that. But what went wrong? What sort of cost are you talking about?"
"You know as well as anyone how proud and arrogant I was when I was alive," she said, not bothering to react when he snorted. "That quite naturally carried over to my decision to create a horcrux. If some object was going to be a receptacle for a piece of my soul, it was going to be the best receptacle possible. It would be something to be proud of, something that would satisfy my ego and vanity. Can you not imagine what might appeal to me in that way?"
At first Sirius simply looked confused, but as the seconds ticked by, horror and realization spread across his face. "No!" he gasped as he shot out of his seat. "It's not... it... you!" Walburga simply nodded as Sirius started pacing back and forth in front of her. "So it really is you! I thought I was going crazy when I first got here, reacting to you like... like you were you. Because you were you! And no wonder Kreacher has treated you like you! Because you are you!"
Walburga raised one eyebrow as she watched his ranting.
"What was this cost you were talking about?" he asked as he turned back to face her. "You made one, and you seem to have done it right, much to my everlasting horror!"
"But it's not right, is it?" Walburga replied. "I know you've noticed how different I am from when I was alive. I started out bigoted against muggleborn, but I didn't want them killed or even oppressed. That was already a big change. Today I'm not even as bigoted as I was a year ago. On top of that, it would be impossible for me to be resurrected like the Dark Lord has been. I can't tell you how I know this because even I'm not sure, but I'm certain that what's in this portrait of me is stuck here for good."
Sirius eyed her suspiciously. "Stuck? So... not really a horcrux?"
Walburga's mouth opened to answer, then she closed it again and thought for a moment before she finally spoke. "I don't know. If this portrait isn't alive, despite the presence of a good deal of my soul, then I guess it can't be called a horcrux because it's not tethering Walburga Black to life. At best, perhaps it's a failed horcrux."
"That makes me feel a little better," Sirius said. "It's their ability to prevent natural death that makes them so vile — mostly. But I still don't understand how you changed."
"I don't fully understand it myself," Walburga admitted, "Part of my punishment seems to be that I can't regain any sort of body: I'm trapped here. The other part is that certain aspects of me were... sheared off, I suppose. I'm not sure I want to know where they went, but the rest — what you would call the better aspects of me — were retained and inserted into this portrait. So I'm me, but still different from how you knew me. And I'm developing like a living person would: my beliefs, attitudes, and goals have all changed since we've been working together, something that a normal magical portrait would never be able to do. And it's not something I would have done while alive, either."
Sirius sighed deeply but didn't respond. After a few moments, he turned and walked to the door. Before he pulled it open, he stopped and said, "I... I need to think about this. I don't even want to ask about the poor person you must have killed to do this. It's all too horrible to contemplate. But does anyone else know?"
"Hermione figured it out."
"She did, did she?" Sirius said. "That's amazing."
"Indeed. I don't know if she told Jasmine Dorea, but I assume so."
"And why didn't she burn you to a crisp?" Sirius asked, genuinely curious.
"She said she wanted to give me a chance to redeem myself," Walburga said softly.
"No shite?" Sirius said, now turning his head to look at her over his shoulder.
Walburga nodded. "In fact, it was she who encouraged me to confess to you. She said that by hiding the truth, I was denying us both a chance to reconnect and even reconcile."
"Huh," Sirius said neutrally before opening the door and leaving the room.
Sunday, April 16, 1996, Afternoon.
"The Headmaster had an interesting meeting with the head of the DMLE yesterday," Minerva said as she led Hermione and Jasmine to the table where they had tea every Sunday.
"Oh?" Jasmine said.
"Yes, apparently one of her aurors has been investigating incidents of massive amounts of magic being performed around Britain," Minerva said. "What's more, this auror was getting very, very close to the truth, and the Headmaster was lucky enough to find out in time to head the investigation off. Or at least delay it for a while."
"Oh," Hermione said, paling slightly.
"What did he tell Madam Bones?" Jasmine asked.
"Very little, he assures me," Minerva replied as she poured her tea. "Just enough to keep the DMLE from acting further, though he does say that you two may have to open up and tell Madam Bones more later. He knows you can't afford to do it right now, given how the Ministry is, but he recommends trusting her once changes have been made."
"We did ask Professor Dumbledore to take an oath to keep secret what we told him," Hermione said, "but I realized later that it wouldn't have covered some of the things he saw and experienced at the ritual — things we didn't directly talk about ourselves."
"He mentioned that, actually," Minerva said. "He knew that he could have said at least a little bit more, perhaps even hinted around enough for Madam Bones to figure out some of the truth that he couldn't say directly. He didn't, though, because he's trying to do better. Despite being ambivalent about your goals regarding the prophecy, and even more concerned about the amount of power involved in the rituals, he accepts that you have good intentions, and he wants to make up for all the mistakes he's made by adhering to the spirit of the oath he gave, not merely the letter."
"That's... more than a little surprising," Hermione responded as she sipped some of her tea. "I never expected him to change like that. I'm so accustomed to him simply using others for his own ends."
"He was never malicious," Minerva pointed out. "He's been stubborn and short-sighted, and he's refused to listen to others, but he's never wanted to hurt you. Either of you. Having him at that ritual probably did more to drive home to him how wrong he's been than any argument could have managed. Arguments he could have ignored, but the power and effects of that ritual were a huge slap in the face for him — especially since he knows that he's never been part of anything like that. There's no way he can deny his own healing, what's been happening in the forest, or how good all of that ultimately is. He may never be able to fully accept what you're doing and where you're going, but I don't think you'll have to worry about him simply assuming the worst about what you're doing, either."
Sunday, April 16, 1996, Evening.
"Hey, Hermione?" Ron said softly as he approached her and Jasmine in the common room. "I just got finished talking to, uh, Miss Black, you know? Anyway, she said she wanted to talk to you."
Hermione and Jasmine had both risen to go to the seventh year boys' dorm when Hermione held out his hand. "You still have another six inches to write for our Transfiguration essay. I'll fill you in later, but you need to finish that first. You've been putting it off all week!"
Jasmine, scowled briefly, but reluctantly agreed before sitting back down. Once she was up in the dorm, Hermione silenced and sealed the door before saying, "Elladora? Is something wrong?"
"I spent some time talking to Sirius earlier today," the portrait replied. "He told me about a difficult conversation he'd had with Walburga this morning. He said you'd know something about it?"
Hermione's brow furrowed, but a moment later her expression cleared. "Oh, that conversation! Yes, I've been wondering if or when it would happen. What did he tell you?" Elladora proceeded to explain everything Sirius had relayed to her about Walburga's confession and their speculations about how both she and Voldemort had been punished by Magic for misusing their gifts in ways that contradicted both life and nature.
"That's interesting," Hermione said slowly. "I assumed that Voldemort suffering through the connection was simply a happy side-effect of what we were doing, but if we accept that Magic is sentient and abhors things like horcruxes, then perhaps the pain was... a deliberate part of his punishment."
"And what happened to Walburga would seem to support that conclusion," Elladora added. "I can't imagine what else might explain such an odd yet specific set of results — results which happen to put her in a position, and disposition, to help a couple touched by prophecy."
Hermione's eyes widened slightly. "You're right — that does all fit if prophecies are sent to us by Magic."
"Regardless, that's not why I wanted to talk to you," the portrait said. "Sirius is having a lot of difficulty coping with this morning's revelations. He hates his mother and had enough trouble coming to terms with her portrait, but now he learns that it's actually been his mother that he's been interacting with all along. What's more, her portrait is the product of one of the most vile examples of dark magic known. It's everything he has ever hated about his family. Yet at the same time, he can't ignore how much she's willingly helped him and his goddaughter. He can't deny how much she's changed, nor how much he's come to depend on her. And, as much as he'd like to strike out at her, it seems like she's already been punished — and is continuing to be punished, perhaps. Since you advised her to confess to him, I was wondering if you had any suggestions or insights that would help me to help him."
Hermione nodded. "It's a real dilemma. I was worried how he would take it, but at least he hasn't been trying to destroy her — assuming he even knows how. I told her that however acceptable their relationship has been thus far, she was denying them both the opportunity to have so much more by keeping her origins a secret. It sounds like she finally took that to heart. What Sirius needs to come to terms with is that the portrait isn't the same as the mother he hated. It's his mother, but also not. He needs to decide if he's going to allow himself to be burdened by the memories of a mother who is dead, or give himself the chance to form a new relationship with a mother who is still present."
Elladora cocked her head in thought for a moment, then said, "That's similar to what I told him, but I like the way you put it. I'll go back and work with him for a bit. Whatever happens, this won't be quick or easy for him to adapt to. Thanks for talking to me about it."
Once Hermione Jasmine had finally finished her essay, Hermione dragged her up to their dorm, where she filled her girlfriend in on what had been happening with her godfather.
Monday, April 17, 1996. Morning.
"She's pushing harder," Neville observed as he looked at the latest decree.
Educational Decree Number One Hundred Thirty-Six:
All students must cooperate with the Chief Inquisitor and be forthcoming with information
regarding suspicious behaviour or outlawed activities.
"First she demanded that we all agree to be questioned," Hermione said, "but now she demands that we be cooperative and forthcoming. I wonder if her questioning wasn't going as smoothly as she wanted and so she felt she had to take this step."
"Maybe," Jasmine responded. "Do you know anyone who has been questioned? It's been two weeks."
"Not personally, no," Neville answered. "But if students are being uncooperative, I suppose it's not been going quickly. That might change now."
"We'll have to be on our guard, I guess," Jasmine said. "Do you suppose she's seen this month's issue of the Quibbler?"
"Probably — and with those interviews that were published, I'm surprised she hasn't attacked you two outright in the Great Hall," Neville answered.
Friday, April 21, 1996, Evening.
Half of the Gryffindor common room was being used by students engaged in DA practice. In one corner, Ron and Neville were explaining to a group of younger students some of the finer points of casting effective defensive shields, while in another corner Ginny was explaining to others about the principles of silent casting.
In the middle, Jasmine and Hermione were instructing two teams fighting against each other. Each team of three students was practicing how to best work together for the most effective combination of offensive and defensive spells. They'd been at it with different teams for more than two hours already and were about to switch to the last two teams when the portrait door suddenly burst open and several people stormed in.
"You! All of you! Stop right this instant!" Dolores Umbridge shouted. "You're all in violation of multiple Educational Decrees from the Ministry!" Everyone in the common room froze in shock. "Your rebellion against the Ministry of Magic has been discovered, and you'll all pay the price!"
"No one here has done anything wrong!" Jasmine insisted. "If anyone has violated any rules, it's me."
"And me," Hermione added, stepping forward to stand next to her girlfriend.
"Check Granger's bag," came a familiar voice from the group of Inquisitorial Squad members behind Umbridge. "When I asked earlier this evening about joining, she pulled out a piece of parchment that explains what their group is doing."
"Thank you, I'll do that." Umbridge snatched up Hermione's bag and began rummaging around in it while Cormac McLaggen stepped forward to reveal himself.
"You!" Jasmine hissed. "How could you?"
"How could I what?" McLaggen asked pompously. "How could I do my duty to the Ministry? Easy — my uncle Tiberius simply had to ask me on behalf of the Minister of Magic, and I acted as was appropriate. It's how decent wizards and witches get ahead in our society. If you two had behaved in a more appropriate manner, you wouldn't be in so much trouble now."
"Got it!" Umbridge exclaimed, smiling triumphantly as she waved a piece of parchment around. "If you two wish to take the blame for all this, so be it. I'll make such an example out of you that no one else will even think about staging an insurrection against the Ministry ever again. Let's go to the Headmaster's office, where I can contact Cornelius and we can put an end to this little rebellion once and for all!"
Jasmine and Hermione glared at McLaggen as they were grabbed roughly by other members of the Inquisitorial Squad — all Slytherin, from what they could tell — and dragged towards the portrait hole.
"Mr. McLaggen?" Umbridge said. "Perhaps you should stay and watch over Gryffindor Tower to make sure they don't break any more rules. I'm leaving you in charge. Use whatever punishment you think is fit if they defy you."
McLaggen turned back to the common room with a smug, superior expression on his face, but that quickly shifted to worry and then fear when he realized that every single Gryffindor had their wands drawn and was looking at him with absolute fury. "I, uh... maybe I should go help the others," he stammered before bolting for the portrait hole himself.
If Albus Dumbledore was surprised by the large group which entered his office, he didn't show it. "What can I help you with this evening, Madam Umbridge?" he asked in a friendly tone.
"You won't be able to help anyone much longer, Dumbledore," Umbridge said gleefully as she slapped a piece of parchment down on his desk and headed to his fireplace. The Headmaster looked at the parchment, frowned, looked at the students on the other side of his desk, then looked back at the parchment. No one noticed the tiny gesture he made with his hand towards the sheet.
Shortly thereafter, Cornelius Fudge and two aurors appeared out of the floo. "This had better be good, Dolores," Fudge muttered darkly. "I don't have time for any wild krupp chases."
"It's better than good," Umbridge crowed. "I caught Potter and Granger teaching magical combat to other students. Not only were they violating several important Educational Decrees, but we now have direct evidence for our contention that Dumbledore has been plotting a coup against the Ministry! He's actually been training students here in the castle to serve as shock troops which can be used to attack us!"
She picked up the parchment and handed it to Fudge, who looked it over and said, "Dumbledore's Army?"
"What?" Umbridge said, stepping around so she could read the parchment herself. "I was sure it said 'Defense Association' at the top."
Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other with confused expressions. Dumbledore's Army? Jasmine mouthed. Hermione shrugged.
"Indeed," Dumbledore said confidently as he stood up behind his desk. "It was charmed to only say 'Defense Association' to anyone taking a casual look, but would switch to 'Dumbledore's Army' for anyone who knew the truth. I'm surprised that the two of you figured it out so quickly, but that's of no importance right now."
"Of course we figured out the truth," Fudge said as he puffed out his chest. "We've been on to you for months, old man. Months! You should know you can't hide anything from us! It was only a matter of time before we caught you, and now we have."
"Apparently I did manage to hide things from you," Dumbledore pointed out, "since your Chief Inquisitor focused exclusively on Miss Potter and Miss Granger despite the fact that they didn't know anything. They taught others what I instructed them to teach, but had no idea why they were doing it. In fact, they weren't even aware of the true name or nature of the organization — they thought it was merely a 'Defense Association' all along. A simple study group to help students work ahead in their lessons."
Fudge fixed the two young witches with a questioning look, and Hermione said, "I... I honestly have never heard the name 'Dumbledore's Army' before in my life."
The Minister nodded, apparently believing her, and turned back to the Headmaster. "That may be good for them, but it will be all the worse for you." Umbridge looked upset that the two witches might not be punished, but didn't dare protest since at least Dumbledore had been caught.
"Oh, and why do you think that?" Dumbledore asked as if speaking to a child.
"Don't you know how treason against the Ministry is punished?" Fudge asked incredulously. "You'll be lucky if life in Azkaban is all you get, and that's without questioning you about whatever other nefarious schemes you're guilty of. This is the end for you, Dumbledore, the end!"
"Ah, I see your error," Dumbledore replied. "You seem to be under the impression that I intend to go quietly." Before anyone could act, Dumbledore raised his hands out to his sides and brought them together in a loud clap in front of him, releasing a wave of energy that knocked out everyone but himself, Jasmine, and Hermione.
"Wow," Jasmine whispered as she looked around the office.
"I haven't been able to do that for quite some time," Dumbledore said in satisfaction as he walked around his desk to stand in front of his two young students. "Ever since that ritual I've kept improving — slowly, but steadily. I've not only healed from my previous injuries and ailments, but I feel years younger. I've even been able to understand Fawkes much more clearly than I have in decades! It's simply marvelous!"
"Wow!" This time it was Hermione who said it.
"Wow indeed," Dumbledore agreed, "but unfortunately we don't have time to chat about how well I'm doing — even when I was at my best, this mass stunning spell didn't last long."
"Why did you do it?" Jasmine demanded. "Why did you put your name on that list?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Dumbledore asked sadly as he reached out to put a hand on both of their shoulders. "To protect you two, of course. It's a serious setback for any of us to be forced out of Hogwarts, but it would be far worse if the two of you were expelled. I will be able to return, but I fear you wouldn't. So you'll need to be even more vigilant from here on out, because I won't be here to protect you anymore, and I'm not sure how much Minerva will be able to do."
"Here, you should take this with you," Hermione said as she took the parchment from Fudge's limp hand and handed it to the Headmaster. "There are spells to hide the names, but I'm sure the Ministry would be able to break them if they tried."
"If it's your spellwork hiding them, I'm not so sure," Dumbledore responded as he took the list, "but better safe than sorry."
"Where will you go?" Jasmine asked, sounding upset.
"Oh, I have a few ideas, but it's better if I don't tell you," he answered. "What you don't know, you can't be forced to divulge. Rest assured that I'll be in touch, directly or indirectly." Some of the figures on the floor groaned and began to stir, so the old wizard moved back behind his desk as he continued, "Lie down and pretend to have been stunned. Once again, be careful!"
As the girls got on the floor, he stood straight and held his hand up. "Fawkes, if you please?" he said, and the phoenix flew over, allowing the Headmaster to grasp his tail feathers before they disappeared in a burst of flame.
"What happened?" Fudge asked with a groan as he got unsteadily to his feet.
"There was a flash of light," Hermione answered as she sat up. "Then... nothing, until I found myself on the floor."
Fudge nodded. "Yes, that's what I remember as well. You two should leave now. Go straight back to your common room."
"But Minister!" Umbridge protested.
"No," Fudge interrupted her, "we need to hunt down Albus Dumbledore, and they have no business here."
Jasmine and Hermione didn't need to be told twice. They quickly slipped through the Inquisitorial Squad and out of the office just as Fudge started practicing a speech about the incident and calling for a photographer.
They didn't see Umbridge glaring hatefully at them the entire time, but they knew she wasn't done with them.
Saturday, April 22, 1996, Morning.
By the following morning, the entire school had heard what had happened; but even if they hadn't, they'd have learned soon enough from a special early edition of the Daily Prophet which was emblazoned with the headline:
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE CAUGHT PLOTTING COUP!
MINISTRY TAKES OVER HOGWARTS!
Included in the article was the text of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Eight: "Chief Inquisitor Dolores Jane Umbridge has replaced Albus Dumbledore as the Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." No one was surprised that Dumbledore was out, but they were shocked that he was replaced so quickly — and disturbed that his replacement was Umbridge.
"It's going to get a lot tougher around here than I thought even last night," Hermione whispered, worried about who might hear them.
"Yeah, as if she wasn't bad enough before," Jasmine muttered. "Training to defend the castle will be harder now."
"Will the castle even be as secure with her in charge?" Neville asked, causing everyone to pause as they reflected on that question. "Will the wards or any of the defenses be as strong? If we're attacked, will she do anywhere near as well defending the school?"
"Thanks a lot, Nev," Ginny said sourly. "Just when I thought this couldn't get any worse..."
Sunday, April 23, 1996, Afternoon.
"Let's take tea at this work table," Minerva said when they entered her office. "Hiding our activities from that woman will be harder, so we need to be prepared to say that I'm giving you two remedial Transfiguration lessons. I also recommend getting wands and books out, just in case."
"Lessons that happen to involve transfiguring teacups?" Jasmine asked impishly, earning her a smile from their professor.
"How bad are things?" Hermione asked as they sat down at the table.
"They could be a lot worse," Minerva answered as she poured herself some tea. "We caught a break in that the castle seems to be refusing to acknowledge that woman as headmistress. After she and everyone else left the Headmaster's office yesterday, she hasn't been able to get back in. The gargoyle refuses to move for her and no one can floo in. She even tried flying on a broom and casting blasting hexes at the windows from the outside, but to no avail."
"How does that help us?" Jasmine asked.
"A lot of the power of a headmaster passes through that office — literally," Minerva explained. "Controlling the physical office is necessary for controlling the school itself — the wards, the defenses, the roll book, everything. She can't expel anyone, she can't raise the wards against anyone... she can't do much of anything that she wasn't already able to do, and she knows it. It infuriates her, which of course is a problem in its own right because the longer this goes on, the more she'll take out her frustrations on the rest of us."
"She'd probably do that anyway," Hermione observed with a sigh. "To whatever extent this slows her down and makes her goals harder to implement, it's still a victory."
"Disbanding the entire prefect system and replacing them with her personal Inquisitorial Squad will make our goals harder to implement," Jasmine pointed out. "Having so many friends and study group members as prefects helped us a lot."
"She's not happy that there have been so few applicants to join her Inquisitorial Squad," Minerva added. "After the prefects were disbanded, she expected more to volunteer. She was even prepared to interrogate them to make sure of where their loyalties were, but only a few have bothered to apply. She yelled at the heads of house, accusing us of pressuring students not to join."
"If... or when she finds out it's more because the students support Jasmine and me over her, she'll be furious," Hermione said.
"I don't suppose there's anything we can do about her?" Jasmine asked, and Minerva simply shook her head. "What about McLaggen? The house hasn't killed him... yet. But only because he's been doing a good job of hiding, and we've been unsure about how well protected he is by the Ministry. If we wanted to find him and deal with him, we could." All of this was said with a dangerous edge in her voice that was seldom heard.
"As much as I'd like to make my displeasure known," Minerva said, also clearly upset, "it's best that we leave him alone for now. He does have family with influence in the Ministry, so it would create problems if anything were to happen to him."
"Fine — we'll let him grow complacent," Jasmine replied with icy resolve. "As soon as the situation at the Ministry changes, though, there will have to be a reckoning with him."
Tuesday, April 25, 1996, Evening.
It hadn't been easy, but all the members of the study group managed to make their way to the Room of Requirement for an evening training session. Living under Umbridge's regime was growing more and more difficult already, so everyone was eager for a chance to let off some steam. Somehow, the Room understood this and managed to superimpose Umbridge's face on the targets being used, leading to spectacular leaps in speed in accuracy across the board.
"Before we go," Jasmine announced at the end, "we need to talk about Beltane."
"You're still doing it?" Tracey asked hopefully.
"Absolutely," Jasmine answered. "And it will be at Stonehenge, too. Despite how much of a tourist attraction it's become, it's still the most magically powerful stone circle in Britain right now. We've been told that the results could far exceed anything we've done so far."
"Wow," Tracey whispered.
"Do you... I mean... is there any chance we could go?" Neville asked, gesturing to Ron and Blaise at his side.
Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, then back at the boys. "I... I don't think that would be a good idea." When Neville's and Ron's expressions fell, she quickly continued, "It's just that this is a veela ritual, designed to be all female. It's not meant for wizards to participate. Maybe something could be done about that, I don't know, but I don't think it could be done quickly."
"I wouldn't mind watching, if that's allowed," Ron suggested hopefully. Blaise gave him an odd look.
"Normally, I'd say that might be fine," Hermione replied awkwardly, "but there's an additional problem, and it's what we wanted to talk to the others about. You see... well, Beltane is a bit unusual in that it's a much more... sexual ritual than the others."
Now Ron and Neville both blushed, and Blaise smirked a bit at their discomfiture.
"It's when Hermione and I... first became intimate," Jasmine explained. "Before we participated in last year's Beltane ritual, we had to decide if that was something we were willing to do. Having some wizards there... I'm not sure that would be such a good idea."
"But what about us?" Susan asked. "Isn't it just as much of a problem for us as it is for them?"
"Not entirely," Gabrielle answered. "If zere is no one zere zat you would see as a potential sexual partner, zen you should not have much to worry about. It is not as if you are going to grab ze nearest witch and start shagging her. Having such a partner nearby increases ze amount of desire in you; without such a partner, you will feel a bit anxious, but it should be manageable."
"Manageable or not, it will be more than you've experienced before," Hermione said. "So you need to be aware of that. If you think it will bother you too much, you shouldn't participate."
"I think I can handle feeling randy for the night," Ginny said casually, then she looked over at Neville. "But I agree that the boys shouldn't attend this time. It would... lead to complications."
Ron looked at his sister, then at Neville, then over at Luna, and finally said, "Ginny's right. We are not participating. Maybe, uh, next time. But not this time." He looked back at Neville and said, "Right?"
"Uh, right," Neville responded quickly, his face a burning red. "Definitely not."
Thursday, April 27, 1996, Evening.
Voldemort looked over the large number of recruits that had been smuggled in from the continent. None of them were very good, but they had taken his Dark Mark, so that made them his and would have to do for now. He needed all of the wands he could get, no matter how mediocre the wizards behind them.
Just because he was desperate, though, didn't mean that he was willing to skimp on training. In addition to the lessons they were receiving on the hidden grounds of Malfoy Manor, he was arranging for them to begin striking at strategic targets. Most important would be the capture of key personnel from the Ministry and various businesses, all of whom would either be killed, marked, or put under the Imperius curse.
Once they were done, the path would be paved to first take over the Ministry, then Hogwarts, and finally magical Britain as a whole. Soon, he thought, We will finally get everything We deserve!
Friday, April 28, 1996, Late Afternoon.
Bobby Fairfellow had been a ticket inspector for British trains for over two decades, and it was a job he loved. He'd been working on the EuroStar that travelled between London and Paris almost since the route opened, and he told everyone who would listen — and a few who'd rather not — how great the ride was. It was easily his favorite train and route assignment since he'd started working trains.
Never, though, had he had a stranger week than this.
"Oi, Nigel — you've been working the EuroStar this week, haven't ya?"
"Yeah, what about it?" Nigel replied, not looking up from Friday's edition of The Sun.
"Well, have ya noticed anything different about the passengers this week?" Bobby asked. "The ones travelling from Paris to London, I mean."
"No," Nigel said with a frown.
"They've all been blondes!" Bobby exclaimed. "All week!"
Nigel shrugged. "So?"
"Waddaya mean, 'so'?" Bobby replied, outraged. "Every train out of Paris that I've been on this week has had lots and lots of blondes — more each day, come to think of it, and today the whole bleedin' train is packed with 'em! Tall, gorgeous blondes... everywhere!"
"So?" Nigel repeated, most of his attention focused on page 3. "It's France."
"Of course it's France," Bobby said, exasperated with his colleague. "But France ain't bleedin' Sweden, is it? There're more blonde birds on this train today than there are in Stockholm, I'll wager." Bobby removed his cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I swear, if I wasn't a happily married man..."
Nigel's eyes flicked briefly up from his paper as he smirked. "You mean, if Edna hadn't threatened to cut your bollocks off if you so much as looked at another bird..."
"Yeah, that too," Bobby conceded. "But I still wish I knew what was going on."
"Maybe there's a convention?" Nigel offered, finally turning the page of his newspaper.
"A convention of blondes?" Bobby asked skeptically. "What would they do?"
"What would I know about what blonde birds get up to?" Nigel asked. "Swap hair care tips? As long as they pay, it don't matter, do it?"
"I guess not," Bobby said, deflating a bit. "It just seems weird."
"Not as weird as when they held that furries convention in London," Nigel pointed out.
Bobby shuddered at the memory. "I thought I told you never to bring that up again!"
"Yeah, well, you stopped worrying about all the blonde birds on the train today, didnja?" Nigel said.
Bobby shook his head in annoyance and went back to checking tickets. He'd managed to suppress the memory of a train full of French furries, mostly, but maybe this was one trip he'd be able to tell stories to his mates about.